Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Lets take a material that can last decades with the right treatment and care and fucking replicate it with the most dogshit ugly flimsiest animal extinction microplastics smells bad unsexual rips in four days garbage disgusting saran wrap we can think of. Ostensibly for vegans.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Western passport holders will never understand. To go anywhere with a third worlder passport like a Filipino one, you need your tax returns, certificate of employment, bank statements, marriage certificates, sometimes a recommendation from a citizen of the country you want to travel to, everything possible to prove that you have a job and a family at home and you're not planning to be an illegal immigrant, JUST to get hit with a rejection because the embassy didn't believe you had enough proof.
Did you have travel plans? Already booked the plane tickets and hotels? Fuck you, better hope they issue refunds (they don't).
Americans and Western Europeans will never understand how insanely hard and bothersome it's to travel anywhere with a weak passport, let alone immigrate.
You want to study abroad? Show us proof that there is a quadrillion dollars in your bank account. Oh, an average monthly salary in your country is $400 and you plan to work when you arrive? You can't do that, silly, a student visa only allows you to work 2 hours every third Wednesday, and if we find out that you're working a second more we will deport you.
You want to work abroad? Better be a programmer, then of course you are welcome. Doctor, scientist, white-collar or, god forbid, blue-collar worker? You can fuck right off, your visa application goes straght into trash.
But if you marry one of our first-world citizens, then fine, you can come. Because we can't upset them, after all, they are a real person, unlike you.
EU Advice to people who have friends in places with weak passports- go to your department of foreigners and ask for something that called Formal Letter of Invitation or something similar. It usually is called something similar and costs a few euro/whatever currency you have. It will not be more than a fancy coffee at Starbucks or such place.
You will have to prove that you can afford a guest, have some income and also usually take responsibility for possible deportation cost.
But if you really are inviting a friend over, they will give you a formal document you can send to your friend. Then the friend applies for a visa while attaching the Very Official document with it. They will get the Schengen visa and most probably will get it expedited too.
It's some effort, but if it's for a friend it's worth it. And it's way less costly than the ridiculous loops the friend is being forced to go through and pay for multiple 3rd party services just to get a freaking visa for a month.
IDK I think if cis men are being told that being fat will lower their testosterone and make them Insufficiently Masculine, and cis women are being told that being fat will raise their testosterone and make them Excessively Masculine, and fat trans people are being denied the right to medically transition if they're fat, and thin trans people are warned against HRT because it will make them fat (and this is said about both testosterone and estrogen HRT), and androgynous-presenting people are told that only thin people count as androgynous...
Then maybe...
Maybe...
Maybe the weight loss industry is just using Gender to enforce fatphobia.
why “spanking is harmful” studies will, ultimately, never matter to parents who want to hit their kids:
@fandomsandfeminism wrote a great post recently about the fact that we have, essentially, a scientific consensus on the fact that all forms of hitting children, including those euphemistically referred to as “spanking”, are psychologically harmful. they’ve also done an amazing job responding to a lot of parents self-admitted abusers who think “I hit my child and I’m okay with that” and/or “I was hit as a child and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me” are more meaningful than 60 years of peer-reviewed research.
unfortunately, I’m here to tell you why all of that makes very little difference.
in 2014, a couple of researchers from UCLA and MIT named Alan Fiske and Tage Rai published a book called Virtuous Violence, the result of a major study of the motivations for interpersonal violence. Rai wrote a shorter piece about it in Quartz, which is a pretty light but still illuminating (hah, I did not see that pun coming but I’m gonna leave it) read.
the upshot of Fiske and Rai’s work is that most violence is fundamentally misunderstood because we think it is inherently outside the norms of a supposedly moral society. we presume that when someone commits a mass shooting or beats their spouse they are somehow intrinsically broken, either incapable of telling right from wrong or too lacking in self-control to prevent themselves from doing the wrong thing.
but what Fiske and Rai found was that, in fact, the opposite is true: most violence is morally motivated. people who commit violent acts aren’t lacking moral compasses - they believe those violent acts are not only morally acceptable, but morally obligatory. usually, these feelings emerge in the context of a relationship which is culturally defined as hierarchical. in other words, parents who commit violence against their children do so because they believe it is necessary that they do so in order to establish or affirm the dominance which they feel they are owed by both tradition and moral right.
when abusive parents say that they are “hitting children for their own good”, they are not speaking in terms of any rational predictions for the child’s future, but rather from a place of believing that the child must learn to be submissive in order to be a “good” child, to fulfill their place in the relationship.
this kind of violence is not the result of calm, intellectually reasoned deliberation about the child’s well-being. for that reason and that reason alone it will never be ended by scientific evidence.
history tells us more than we need to verify this. the slave trade and the institution of racial slavery, and their attendant forms of “corrective” physical violence, for instance, did not end because someone demonstrated they were physically or psychologically harmful to slaves - that was never a question in people’s minds to begin with. for generations, slavery was upheld as right and good not because it was viewed as harmless, but because it was viewed as morally necessary that one category of people should be “kept in their place” below another by any means necessary, because they were lower beings by natural order and god’s law. this violence ended because western society became gradually less convinced of the whole moral framework at play, not because we needed scientists to come along and demonstrate that chain gangs and whippings were psychologically detrimental. this is only one example from a world history filled with many, many forms of violence, both interpersonal and structural, which ultimately were founded on the idea that moral hierarchies must be maintained through someone’s idea of judiciously meted-out suffering.
and this, ultimately, is why we cannot end violence against children by pointing out that it is harmful - because the question of whether or not it is harmful does not enter into parents’ decisions about whether or not to commit violence in the first place. what they care about is not the hypothetical harm done to the child, but the reinforcement of the authority-ranked nature of the relationship itself. the reason these people so often sound like their primary concern is maintaining their “right” to hit their children is because it is. they believe that anyone telling them they can’t hit their children is attempting to undermine the moral structure of that individual relationship and, in a broader sense, the natural order of adult-child relations in society.
and that’s why the movement has to be greater than one against hitting kids. it has to be a movement against treating them as inferior, in general. it has to be a movement that says, children are people, that says children’s rights are human rights, that says the near-absolute authority of parents, coupled with the general social supremacy of adults and the marginalization of youth, have to all be torn down at once as an ideology of injustice and violence. anything less is ultimately pointless.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Synopsis: basically the song honeybee by Olivia Rodrigo.
I saw an edit of Seungmin to this song, bawled my eyes out and got a little bit of inspiration. FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF tho
Word count: 1,63k
ENJOYY!
It hasn't been that long since you started dating Seungmin. You met very randomly; he was looking around this quiet shop in a hidden little street up a hill in the heart of Seoul, searching for an adequate birthday present for his sister.
It was one of your favourite little boutiques to visit when you had errands to run around the area, as it was whimsical, hidden, and all the little trinkets they sold were unique and to your taste exactly.
The second you first laid eyes on the boy with fluffy hair, his eyes wide, lips in a pout, as he examined the label of some kind of card game, your heart missed a beat. He looked so soft, his hands delicate, yet so out of place between all the pinks and golds surrounding him. You giggled softly as he seemed even more confused after reading the label, hesitantly putting the little box back on the shelf. You later found out that it wasn't actually a deck of cards he picked up, but a game for couples inspired by Kama Sutra, something his sister would not have appreciated at all, especially from her little brother. His eyes darted up upon hearing the little noise you made, and his ears went red in an instant.
"It's not what it looks like." he quickly states as his hands fly into the air in surrender.
"Really?" your eyebrows raise in curiosity, your tone playful. "Because to me it seems like you're really lost in here."
"Oh, I am." he nods, his lips part, and damn do they look so pretty. His eyes are still wide and you can't help but take note of his boyish charm. There's this feeling bubbling up inside you, this fleeting thought, that his face is one you could spend your whole life knowing. How it changes over the years, how age takes a toll on his skin, how his expressions change with different emotions - happiness, sorrow, love.
"You need help?" you ask politely, and he looks around before he nods softly.
You spend roughly half an hour shuffling through all the shelves with easy conversation flowing. He's not really talkative, but he seems like he enjoys listening to you ramble more. He laughs when you pull something absolutely ridiculous off the shelves, not necessarily being serious about your pick, but you find yourself enjoying the sound of his laughter and the brightness of his smile, so you try to bring it out as often as possible.
He tells you about his sister, how she appreciates gifts that are unique rather than expensive, which is why he's in this store. He apparently heard about it from a coworker, who loves to buy little trinkets from there, as he enjoys interior design a lot.
You both finally settle on a beautiful vintage jewelry set with colorful gemstones and intricate, whimsical nature elements. There is a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a dainty little bracelet.
As you both walk up to the checkout counter, he cannot stop saying thank you for your help, and you make sure to reassure him that it's all right.
You part ways without even finding out his name, and this deep disappointment settles over your shoulders as you try to get back to your own shopping, replaying all the little, fleeting moments and his beautiful smile etched in your mind's eye.
Two weeks pass by, and there's no day when you don't think about the mystery boy from your favorite boutique, whose name you don't know, but you would recognize him even in the biggest of crowds. You walk more attentively after that. Maybe fate has it that you will see him on the subway or at the raunchy bar you go to with your coworkers, or maybe you'll accidentally find the same awning to hide away from the summer rain washing through the streets of Seoul.
None of that happens.
So you decide to make your own fate, and you go back to the store again, deep down wishing that he wants to see you again just as much as you do, and he will suddenly become a regular there with a hopeful heart for a new meeting.
He's not there. You roam all the little corridors between the packed shelves for at least an hour, but he's not there.
"Excuse me, miss!" A worker approaches you. She's your favorite; you always make sure to chat with her while she packs up all your new findings at the counter. She's smiling widely at you. "A young man came in earlier this week and wanted me to give this to you. He described you as 'the pretty girl who knows every corner of this store, but doesn't work here.'"
She hands you a little box, wrapped in brown paper and a ribbon around it. There is a little card attached to the ribbon. You open it slowly as you read the message written in neat handwriting:
"Thank you for helping me find the perfect birthday gift for my noona. She LOVED it!
I would like to say thank you in person as well, maybe at a nice cafe?
If you'd like that, please text me at xxx-xxx-xxx.
Here's to hopin' this finds the right person!
Seungmin"
Your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest, and there's this prominent smile on your face that only ever appears when the golden threads of fate are pulled just right.
Of course, you text him. Of course, you go on that coffee date. And he's everything you've expected him to be: a delicate, very polite boy who refuses to use technology just to make his tasks simpler by seconds, who prefers phone calls over texting, who journals and sings old ballads about love so beautiful it seems unreal.
The boy you want to do mundane things with, like walking in the dark or hopping park fences, because even the smallest things feel grand with Seungmin.
He's a gentleman, through and through. He picks you up, walks you home, it feels like fate threw you a bone. He makes sure you're always comfortable, reminds you to eat and hydrate, sends you good night and good morning texts. One morning, as you arrive at work, you notice this little note stuck to your laptop. The night before, you went out on a date with Seungmin and fell asleep right after he said goodbye with a kiss to your cheek at the door. He must have snuck it into your bag without you noticing.
"Hope you think about me as much as I do about you when we're apart. Please meet me on our bench at the park tonight at 8.
Your sticky sweet tangerine, Sengmin"
The nickname comes from one of your dates: he went to Jeju Island for work, and when he returned, he insisted on seeing you as soon as possible. He gifted you this basket of Jeju tangerines, the sweet-looking fruit lying on top of this little handkerchief with an orange gingham pattern, the edges decorated with delicate lace. It's a small detail, but the cloth is so you, and it's so him to put effort into finding a version of the many that is uniquely to your taste.
He wants to be a gentleman, so he offers to peel one of the tangerines for you. However, they are so ripe and soft that the juice squirts everywhere, and he fusses about how his hands are sticky, but it would rather be his than yours.
"You're like the tangerines, Seungminnie. Sticky sweet." you tell him, and he smiles so bright he illuminates the whole park.
The night you find his little note in your bag, he asks you to be officially his girlfriend, while he's holding your hand so delicately like you're made out of porcelain, and you love the way he looks at you in that moment. His eyes sparkle, not with his usual mischief, but with a fondness so deep it creates stars in his irises.
It's been a long time since then, and your lives morph together, your love blossoming like the sakura in spring. And the feeling lingers, more and more fond as days pass. You find it difficult to voice it; it's so hard to describe it in a way that feels honest enough.
But you know that cliches you knew seem so commonplace since you first saw him in the little shop. That every time you're scared, in the dark, you can just reach out, and he will be there.
Lately, days with Seungmin are quiet. There is this lingering feeling in the air of something left unsaid. Something that you can both feel and know, but it is too difficult to put into words, fearing that there are no words grand enough to describe it in a way that is worthy.
But God, you hope you'll never see the way his face looks like going...
Even the thought of being away from him or losing him makes you want to cry. As tears are running down your face, you see him in front of you, his picture at the front of your mind, all smiles and silly jokes and an elegance that feels old school, all yours. You're reaching for a napkin to dry your tears, and you find a Polaroid picture on your coffee table, one you didn't notice until now: it's a picture of you, one you had no idea he took. You're laughing - so sincere and wide, you know it's because of Seungmin - the sun in the background creating a halo around you. And on the white border, there are two words scribbled in black marker:
"babygirl, honeybee"
It's not clear exactly what he's referring to by that; he called you babygirl before, but never honeybee.
But it all becomes clear on a random day, when it's least expected as you get a notification on your phone:
New Upload from Stray Kids
Seungmin - honeybee ( Olivia Rodrigo Cover) | [SONG By 2] S#2
There it is, the confession. You know it's dedicated to you. His babygirl, his honeybee. And this time around, the words are grand enough to describe the love you share.
stormborns
yousharknotpass
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
areudirty
origamiaround
